


Secretary and the Beast

by vulgarshudder



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Secretary (2002)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Curse, Boss/Employee Relationship, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Masturbation, S&M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulgarshudder/pseuds/vulgarshudder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French, a young shy woman with a history of self harm has been recently discharged from Storybrooke hospital. To help her father out of financial difficulties, she finds employment as a secretary with the town Lawyer, Mr. R. Gold. Their relationship strays from the 'prescribed employer relationship'. No curse, AU mash-up of the movie 'Secretary'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fusion with the movie Secretary, and I don't stray too far. You've checked the tags for warnings yes? Good, now lets get down to some inappropriate Boss/Employee spanking!

_Today was the day I left Storybrooke hospital after a 5 month stay in their psychiatric ward. Things were comfortable there, I had a routine. Breakfast at 8, lunch at 12, therapy from 3, dinner at 6, lights out by 10._

Belle French stood on the steps to the old hospital building with her leather suitcase at her feet. The last remnants of the cool spring breeze blew her long hair into her face, and she tried to swallow down the anxiety rising in her chest. She leaned down to pull up the blue knee sock hidden underneath the straight A-line of her brown skirt, and straightened up to hug arms around the dark blue sweater she wore. Summer was coming and it was a clear day, never the less she felt a chill. Belle was ignored by the other people coming to and from the hospital, she was inconspicuous in that way.

Finally she saw the white van pull through the iron gates of the hospital back entrance with its familiar ‘Game of Thorns’ logo on the side.

A gentle smile pulled at her lips as she picked up her case and the van pulled up in front of her. The door opened to reveal her father, all smiles as he leaned across the seat to wave at her. "Hey Petal!" he greeted her with her childhood name.

"Hi Papa," she smiled at him, hiking up the hem of her skirt so she could climb into van and slam the heavy door behind her. Her small leather case sat perched on her lap.

Her father started driving, and there was an awkward silence as Belle watched the small town go by.

Finally it was her father who broke it. He didn't take his eyes off the road. "So I thought it might be a nice day to have a barbie, like we used to do on the beach back in Australia."

Belle nodded, "That would be nice Papa."

Moe's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "I invited a few people, made it a welcome home party for you."

Something constricted in Belle's throat, "but..."

"It'll be fine darling, just a few of your old friends and the neighbors. It'll be good for you to see some old friendly faces from school, it's been a while since you've seen them right. It'll keep your mind off things." Moe told her.

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. She looked out the side window, watching the people go by on the pavements outside the shop. "It'll be wonderful Papa," she said, her voice lacking any conviction.

Moe didn't seem to notice and gave himself a satisfied nod.

***

Belle hadn't seen any of her friends in at least a year, and only then had it been in passing in the streets or the shops, where she felt obligated to have a few lines of awkward conversation. In the 4 years since she had graduated high school nearly everyone had moved on with their lives. Gone to college, found jobs, even a few were married and having children.

Thankfully that left few available in Storybrooke to be invited to the barbeque her father had planned. The small back yard was done up with balloons and bunting strewn around the trees and bushes. Her father was manning the barbeque, dishing out cooked meat while he had a beer in his other hand. He was in his element.

Belle had made the effort to change into an old baby blue party dress, made from cheap satin. It gapped around the bust line and armholes as she had brought it when she was still in high school, but it had long sleeves. She saw Ruby Lucas, who was probably the person she was most familiar with. When they were in high school though they never spoke, they had moved in completely different circles, Ruby was with the rebellious cool girls who liked to skip school and smoke behind the music rooms, which was not a scene Belle was apart of. But since high school Ruby had calmed down somewhat, enough to work in her Granny's diner where Belle would occasionally bump into her. That made it even harder to talk to her now.

Belle ducked around to hide to the side of the porch trying to avoid the gaze of people. It was just paranoia that they were taking glances at her and whispering, she told herself. She concentrated on her paper plate with its rather sad looking burger on it. They weren't talking about her. It was just her imagination, she repeated to herself.

"Hi," a voice far above her said.

Belle snapped her head up. It was Gaston, whom she hadn't seen since high school.

"Hi," she answered back in a small voice. He was ruggedly good looking as she remembered. Again, a person she had shared classes with but had never socialized with. He had been desired by every girl in her grade, but there was no way she was even on his radar. So she wasn't sure why he would be here now.

"Nice party, your Dad invited me," he flashed a handsome smile at her and she realized why every girl fancied him.

"I'm glad you could come," Belle lied. She wished no one had come.

Gaston took a swig from the beer bottle he was holding. "So I was wondering… if some time you'd like to hang out some time."

Belle tried to fight her rising panic, "You mean like a date?"

The tall man grinned at her, "Yeah like a date."

Why on earth would he be inviting her on a date? The answer soon presented itself when her father came lumbering over. "Hey Petal," he greeted, putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the cheek that smelt like stale beer. "I'm so glad you got talking to Gaston, one of the few eligible bachelors in Storybrooke."

Belle tried to smile for her father but, it was difficult as she watched the foamy beer spill over onto his hand as he gestured with it. "Papa I thought you had stopped?"

"Oh..." Moe looked at the bottle and handed it to Gaston to hold. "I have." He took her by the shoulders. "Petal, I'm so glad you're home." He said with the intense sincerity only managed by the drunk. "You're home, and you're better. I just can't bear the thought of you doing that to yourself."

"I'm glad to be home too," she told her father and he smiled down at her before taking the bottle back from Gaston.

Moe took another swig, "You've always been my little girl, and you always will be..." He said with a look up to the darkening sky before gripping his head. "I don't feel so good." He announced.

"You should sit down Papa." She told him and helped guide him to a chair, where he started mumbling to himself about the earth spinning and holding his head. He always ended up like this and she just couldn't watch him.

She excused herself from Gaston and slipped around the mingling people, ignoring any looks that followed her as she went inside and stormed up to her room fighting back tears. There was a ‘welcome home’ banner across the door, and she tore it down before slammed it shut behind her.

The sounds from the garden party filtered up to her from the bedroom window as she sat on the bed, fists clenched so hard her knuckles went white.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and got off her bed to pull up the mattress to reveal a box wrapped in a polka dot scrap of cloth, and a small make up pouch. She laid them on the bed in front of her and carefully untied the larger package to reveal an old storage box she'd had since childhood. It was covered in foil stickers of roses and Disney princesses.

Taking a deep breath she found her resolve and pulled out the instruments of torture she'd collected since she was 11 years old. Razor blades, scalpels, wood carving tools, pins, a lighter, stitch picker, a dart, broken pieces of porcelain, iodine, steri-strips. She laid them all out as was her ritual to decide what she would use today.

She picked up the broken piece of a porcelain doll and ran the broken edge over the sharpening stone a few times to make sure it was sharp enough. She climbed back onto the bed. Her leg bent underneath her and pulled her skirt up to reveal her thigh. She pressed the jagged edge into her flesh, and was about to drag it towards her when some laughter from the party below reminded her of her father.

The tears she had forgotten about came back anew, and she blinked them back as she remembered how proud her father was that she was better.

Belle took the porcelain off from her skin and dumped it back in the box, followed by the rest as quickly as she possibly could. She needed to get it all out of her sight, and she wrapped it up with the cloth and took them to her dresser where she shut them away in a draw.

Belle went back to her bed and let the tears she'd tried to avoid fall as she buried her face in the pillow, knowing no one would miss her at the party.

***

Belle needed to grow up. To move on with her life, or at least make steps to show her father she was moving on. So she enrolled in the community collage to take typing classes and it turned out this was something she was good at. She even loved reading the nonsensical texts she had to type up without even listening to the keys. Before long she passed the course with flying colors, and she was an excellent touch typist with an average speed of 80 words-per-minute.

It was the first thing she'd done other than helping out in the back of her father's shop since high school.

It had worked. "I'm so proud of you Petal," her father had said as he drove her home from her evening class as he always did. She looked down at the freshly printed certificate with her typing scores on. "I knew you could do it," he told her. Belle wasn't so sure passing one class was too much to be proud of but, well it was something at least.

Things seemed to be going well until one evening after a shower when she had been making tea in the kitchen. She had been standing there over the kettle waiting for it to boil when she heard a raised voice coming from the living room. Belle crept to the door way, and saw her father talking on the phone.

"I told you I'll get you the money!" He shouted and slammed the phone down. Belle jumped back from the threshold when he pushed over the whole side table where the phone sat.

Belle's heart sank with disappointment when she saw the empty beer bottles on the table, he'd been drinking again. "Papa?" She asked in a quiet voice.

Moe spun around to see her half hiding behind the door way and tried to calm himself down. "Hey Petal," he greeted her with false cheer.

"Who was that?"

"No-one," he said as he sunk down onto the sofa and picked up one of the beer bottles from the coffee table.

"Was that..." She trailed off. It was the shop, they were having money troubles again it would seem. Guilt assailed her as she realized her hospitalization must have been expensive. Not that her father ever discussed it with her.

"I said it was no-one." With that Moe put on the TV to drown out any more attempts to talk to him for the rest of the night.

Belle's lips pressed together hard as she felt the tears building. He would never talk to her, just treated her as a child that never knew better. She left her father to forget his money troubles with drink and picked up the now boiling kettle from the stove. She crept up to her room with it, shutting the door behind herself, not that her father would be coming up to bed tonight anyway. She needed her privacy for what she was about to do.

Sitting on her bed she spread her legs apart and pulled up her long nightie to reveal the inside of her thigh. She never harmed her arms now, not since the incident. But with her long dowdy skirts no one ever saw her legs. No one stared or had questions. Her father didn't cry.

Biting her lip, Belle pressed the metal kettle against her thigh and instead of tears of frustration and loneliness, she was fighting back tears of pain. She could hear the sizzle and pop of burning flesh and had to fight the urge to drop the boiling kettle. But she held it there as the pain took over every fiber of her being, obliterating everything else that made up Belle French.

***

The incident that led to my hospitalization happened on a Sunday afternoon. I was washing up after Sunday dinner with my father, and when his back was turned I saw my opportunity. Before I knew it, blood was dripping into the soapy suds of the washing up water. I must have cut too deep. To this day I don't know why. I had done it many times before, but no-one believed that I didn't want to kill myself, that it was only a mistake.

Belle came down the next evening to see her father in the kitchen, putting padlocks onto the kitchen draw where the knifes were kept. She stared at him until he noticed her, and he smiled with slight apology, "Just in case Petal."

She nodded at him, understanding. He didn't trust her and she knew better that he should trust her.

Belle left the kitchen to walk out to the trash cans in the front yard, to retrieve her torture kits from the metal trash can. They were where she had left them. She just wasn't ready to let them go yet. She hugged them to her chest and underneath she noticed the job section of this week's Storybrooke Mirror. She picked it up, and started looking over the ads for vacancies as she walked back to her house.

She was bubbling with excitement by the time she was at her desk. She could help her father with money if he got a job, and she started circling the advertisements for those requiring someone with typing skills.

Belle picked up a hand mirror, and held it so she could see her face as she practiced her interview face. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to discuss this job position with you. I am a very hard worker, and I'm sure I'll be an excellent addition to your team." She said in her most steady grown up voice. "No, I do not have any references, but I'm sure the Storybrooke municipal planning department would be an excellent place to start my career."

A smile broke across her face, reflected back at her in the mirror. She put the mirror down and scanned the adverts, her eyes being drawn to one in particular.

Wanted: Secretary  
for law. Typing mandatory.  
contact R. Gold, 2450 Main Street.

"Secretary..." Belle read aloud, and smiled. She liked the sound of that.

***

Her father insisted on driving her to her first ever interview and Belle was glad because it was raining. From the road she could see a 'Gold, Attorney at Law'. Underneath it hung a smaller sign that said 'Secretaries: Wanted'.

Umbrella up, she walked the short distance from the parking lot to the main building, clutching her typing certificate to her chest to try and keep it dry. She passed under the many rose arches that covered the path to the main door of the offices, heavy drops of water falling from the leaves above her and pattering the umbrella with an irregular rhythm.

Belle hesitated and turned back to see her father watching her from the van, and he waved her inside with his hands. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to see the reception area. It would have looked like an antique shop, all polished wood and expensive rugs, if it wasn't for all the files and papers that covered the floor, with upturned chairs and potted plants everywhere. It looked like a war zone more than a waiting room.

There was a middle aged woman at the dark mahogany reception desk throwing things into a cardboard box. She was sobbing loudly. As the last pen was dumped into the box she put a brown envelope into her mouth before picking up her box with her free hands.

"Excuse me I'm here for the..." But Belle was unable to finish before the woman passed by giving her the most accusatory glare possible. The door slamming behind Belle made her jump and she was left alone in the office.

She had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out.

Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow, she told herself.

Careful where she placed her feet, Belle headed towards the open door across the waiting room, and peered around it hoping to find someone left working here. There was a corridor lined with pedestals, each displaying a curio. The walls had a dark green chintzy wall paper which looked like it come from the last century. There was no natural light, but spotlights illuminated the antiques on display.

Belle examined the pedestal closest to her, an ordinary carriage close that ticked steadily. The brass pendulum inside the glass front swished back and forth in time with her heartbeat.

Straightening up again to resume her search she called out, "hello?"

Inside the large attorney's office at the other end of the hallway sat a rather disheveled Robert Gold at his desk, mulling over the events that had lead to the dismissal of yet another secretary. Why did he always do this to himself, ever since... He stared at the photograph of a dark haired woman in his hand, and turned it face down on the desk to avoid her haunting stare. He wasn't a boss, he was a beast.

The light tinkering of the voice from the reception broke him from his self-reflection and made him sit up. "Come in," he called out while hastily straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair, checking himself over in the mirror hidden in the bottom of the draw in his desk.

"Hi." The small female voice form the door way made him sit bolt upright. With forced ease he sat with his fingers knitted together on the desk in front of him.

"Are you Mr. Gold? The lawyer?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied trying to keep his face neutral.

Belle quickly glanced around the office, it continued the Victorian theme of outside, all rich colors and textures. More antiques littered every surface, although the spinning wheel tucked into the corner seemed a bit out of place. Her eyes settled on the lawyer in front of her, he looked incredibly suave in his perfectly cut dark suit. The shocking pink shirt and magenta silk tie contrasted with the base colors of the suit and room boldly.

"I've just come about the secretary job..." Belle became unnerved by the way he was staring at her, and threw her hands up in apology. This was obviously a bad time for him. "I'm sorry I'll just come back another day..." She told him and turned to leave.

"No." The older man called from the desk, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Stay."

Belle steeled herself, do the brave thing, she thought and turned back. She strode towards the desk like the confident woman she was pretending to be and held out her crumpled and now wet test scores.

The lawyer stared blankly from the paper to her.

"It said secretary..." She explained, and finally some understanding dawned in his eyes.

"That's right..." He said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Are you pregnant?"

Belle's mouth hung open in shock for a moment before she found her voice again. "No."

"Do you intend to get pregnant?" Mr. Gold asked in an undeniably Scottish brogue.

Belle couldn't hold back a giggle anymore. "No..." She had never even had a boyfriend!

Mr. Gold seemed unfazed, and continued his questioning. "Are you married?"

Belle shook her head. "No."

"Do you live in a house or apartment?"

"House, with my father."

Mr. Gold turned away to fiddle with some buttons behind his desk. "Did you ever win an award?"

"Yes." As she replied Gold activated some switch, and behind her in the other corner of the office a miniature garden was revealed. Lit up and misty it contained many rose bushes of exotic varieties she'd never seen before even in her father's shop.

But Mr. Gold's next question made her turn back before she could spend too long looking at the roses. "In what?" he asked.

"Typing."

Mr. Gold regarded her carefully for a moment, before his eyes went down to the paper she still held. "Are those your scores?"

Belle followed his gaze down. She'd forgotten she was still holding her certificate. "Oh yes." She leaned over the desk to smooth the sheet down in front of him.

His eyes flicked down at the paper, "Belle..." he said carefully, "French." He leaned back in the leather chair, picking an old fashioned phone off the cradle and dialed a number. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Tea, milk, two sugars," he told her before turning away to pointedly ignore her.

She watched him in confusion for a minute before it dawned on her. "Oooh..." She said in realization. This was a part of the interview. Not sure what to do with herself, she took her umbrella out with her to try and find the tea making facilities.

As soon as she was out of his office, Mr. Gold ran his hand over the desk to roll a pile of red marker pens from his desk into the waste paper bin. New secretary, new start. He would not allow the Red Pen Beast out. There would not be a repeat of what had happened with the last 9 of his employees.

Belle had found a kitchenette and after a struggle with a water jug where she managed to splash the front of her light blue shirt with water, she brought in a cup of tea holding it carefully.

Mr. Gold had moved to the couch area and sat with his arms over the back and his ankle hooked over his knee. "Belle, I have a part time paralegal here, all you'll need to do is type my letters and answer the phone. We use typewriters here not computers."

She nodded, wishing she had put less water in the pretty blue and white tea cup. She had nearly made it to where Mr. Gold was sitting.

"You'll also need to help me skin the clients who do not pay their fees."

Belle gasped and dropped the cup and saucer onto the floor and looked up at Mr. Gold with wide eyes.

"That was a quip." He told her, sneering with his top lip. "Wasn't serious."

"Oh, right." Belle said in relief and bent down to pick up the cup. She panicked when she saw the neat little indent in the side. "Oh, I'm sorry..." She held it up for the lawyer to see, "it's chipped. But you can barely see it." Her heart sunk thinking she had messed up the interview with her clumsiness.

Mr. Gold looked at her in confusion, "It's just a cup."

Relief flooded through Belle. He didn't seem too angry she's ruined an expensive antique already. "I'll get you another, the kettle's just boiled."

She came back with another cup and managed to get it all the way to the coffee table in front of Mr. Gold without dropping it, as he gestured to take the seat by him. She tried to dry her shirt with paper towel.

"The thing is Belle." He watched her wipe the towel over the wet shirt clinging to her breasts, "you have the best test scores I've ever seen in an applicant." He leaned over to look straight at her, "You're overqualified. I think you'll be bored here."

"That's ok." Belle said quickly.

He tilted his head his curiosity piqued, "You'll be very bored."

"I want to be bored." She told him trying to lift her head high, to show him the sincerity of her words.

Mr. Gold sat back and looked at her, as if he was trying to figure her out. "Belle, you're so..." He let out a deep breath through his nose, "closed up. Like there's a wall. Do you ever loosen up?"

"I don't know." She said with the same sincere tone. She really didn't know.

The phone started ringing and he stood up from the couch, picking up a gold topped cane she hadn't noticed before that had been left resting against the couch. He limped over to the desk, hooking the phone by his two fingers and brought it over to Belle.

He held it in front of her and looked down to meet her clear blue eyes with his rich brown ones. "Next time, less sugar in the tea dearie."

Belle could not contain her grin, she had gotten the job! She was now Mr. R. Gold's secretary!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Gold is a demanding employer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out this is unbetaed, sorry!

_From the next day I started working as Mr. R. Gold's secretary. All night I laid in bed looking at the outfit I had chosen to go to work in, a long brown skirt and plain beige shirt. It seemed an appropriate attire to join the working masses. There were hardly any clients that visited, only 3 in my first week, but I really tried my best for Mr. Gold. The day he came into the office to find me sitting on the floor to reorganize his filing system, color coordinated files spread out around me. he nodded approvingly and said "Very good, Belle," before going into his office. The single compliment gave me a tingle of excitement and pleasure, and I realized the self-satisfaction that came with being good at one's job._

When Belle came back from lunch that day, the part-time paralegal had forgotten her eye compact in the toilets, and Belle spent some minutes adding a sparkly light blue to her eyelids. She liked the effect, she wondered if Mr. Gold would notice. She dismissed herself as being silly, and picked up the bag of doughnuts she had picked up for Mr. Gold from Granny's. She had even bumped into Ruby, she had held her head up high and explained she was only on her lunch break. Ruby had commented she looked well.

Knocking on the door, she shyly let herself into Mr. Gold's office. He was at his raised rose bush garden, jacket off revealing the deep purple shirt that matched the tie perfectly. Mr. Gold was always impeccably dressed, he had a neatness to him that was reflected in the way his offices were organized too.

He was leaning over into the bushes with a pair of miniature sheers, as he snipped off the dying flower head of one of the magenta colored roses.

Belle held up the bag of doughnuts and cup of tea she had made for him, "I thought you might like..." He didn't make any acknowledgment of her, so engrossed in tending to his rose garden. She just laid her offerings carefully down on the coffee table.

She was about to turn to leave, when Mr. Gold turned toward her, still brandishing the sheers, "Belle, I seem to have thrown away notes on the Dumpty case, I was wondering if you would-"

But Belle cut him off before he could finish, "-would go through the garbage for them?"

Although his expression remained blank, he stared at her for a moment, his knuckles going white as he squeezed the handles of the sheers closed. He was obviously taken aback that she would suggest going through the trash herself. "Yes, if that's not a bother dear."

"No, not at all Mr. Gold." Belle smiled at him, and practically skipped her way out of the building to the back of the parking lot where the dumpsters were kept. She was only small but she managed to struggle over the side, nearly falling onto the bags of trash. Once she was standing properly, she started pulling open bags and sorting through the papers, tea bags and food wrappings, looking for the Nolan case files.

Inside the office, Mr. Gold limped over to the window picking up the doughnuts on the way, to deposit them in the trash in the corner of the room. He peeked out behind the net curtains, to watch her clumsily climb into the dumpster and start flinging the trash around. Dear god, she had actually done it. No complaining, or sour looks, or resignation. She was beautiful, and she never looked more beautiful out in the hot summer day digging around the trash.

Mr. Gold swallowed hard, and let the net curtain twitch back closed. What was he doing, why was he letting himself do this again. But she was so perfect and obliging and willing... He went to the spinning wheel in the corner of the room, and sat down hastily on the stool. He started pumping the pedal quickly, watching the wheel spin around drawing in the thread from between his fingertips. He must forget the sight of that beautiful young girl, skirt hitched up as she climbed into the trash to do his bidding.

Meanwhile, out in the dumpster, Belle had found the Dumpty case papers, albeit stained with old tea bags, and a candy bar wrapper stuck to it with melted chocolate. She plucked the wrapper off, and a bit more disheveled than usual marched proudly back into Mr. Gold's office.

He was back at his desk, engrossed in his paperwork, and she stood by the side of it with the mucky folder in hand, like an elementary school child waiting for praise from the teacher.

She kept waiting expectantly, hoping this would be another `good job`, or even better one of Mr. Gold's rare smiles that was different to the shark one he gave clients. But when he finally flicked his eyes over to the papers in her hand, he just said "Oh, those," like he had forgotten about them already. "I found another set, I don't need them anymore." He went back to his papers, slowly turning over the page to mark the next with his fountain pen.

"Oh..." Belle tried to contain the disappointment, but at least he had what he needed. 

She turned to leave the office but Mr. Gold called her back, "Oh Belle, would you pick up the bits of roving from around the spinning wheel, they do get everywhere. Oh and..." he pushed the tea cup she had left earlier towards her, "...more sugar in the tea next time."

Belle tried to keep her frown of confusion in check, he was her employer after all. "Yes, Mr. Gold." She said and went over to the spinning wheel, to get on her hands and knees to start picking up fluffy white bits of wool with her finger tips. When she had first noticed the spinning wheel, she had thought it another odd antique for decoration. But on closer inspection it was obvious that it was no antique, and the amounts of wool roving and balls of perfectly spun wool that varied daily must mean that Mr. Gold actually spun wool.

"Oh and remember to check behind the chair Belle, the air conditioning does like to blow it about into the most hard to reach places," Mr. Gold reminded her from his desk, not looking up from his work.

Belle nodded, and crawled over to the chair on her hands and knees, picking up every piece of lint she could see. But she came to the bin, and saw her bag of doughnuts inside it. Seeing them discarded stung, and she released a breathy "Oh.." looking back at the desk with Mr. Gold in. She was about to ask him if he didn't like doughnuts, but he was still busy. It didn't matter she told herself, but the wool he had told her to pick up did. 

There was still the corner behind the chair, which she could not reach from the floor. She picked herself up and clambered onto the puffy leather chair, one knee on the cushion, and one on the armrest to try and get herself in a position so she could reach around behind it to the floor. There indeed was one large piece of wool, and she stretched to reach, fingertips nearly there.

Suddenly she stopped, she felt eyes on her, and she craned her head around to see Mr. Gold watching her. She followed the direction of his gaze down, to the back of her thigh where her skirt had ridden up to expose 5 strips of cut up band aid, covering where she had cut herself last night when Papa had fallen asleep drunk on the sofa again.

Belle and Mr. Gold locked eyes for a second, before the fear started to run through her like ice.

The ringing of the reception phone broke the spell, and Belle fled to avoid Mr. Gold's stare and any questions that might come. Holding back tears she answered the phone, as a tall smartly dressed woman with dark long hair came in through the front door.

"Where is he?" She demanded.

Belle held up a hand as she picked up the phone to indicate she'd be with her in one second, "Hello, you've reached the office of Mr. R. Gold, Attorney at law..." 

The woman didn't seem to care she was on the phone, "Tell him to get out here now. It's Milah."

Belle held up her hand apologetically and tried to listen to what the person on the other end of the line was saying to her, "yes, I'm afraid we're quite happy with our current phone plan..." 

The woman crossed her arms and stared Belle down, and with a sneer spat out, "Submissive."

Belle was speechless and her back stiffened, as the sales person jabbered at her through one ear, and a burst of anger came through her and she directed it towards the phone, "look, I don't care how much you can save us on long distance calls!" She slammed the phone down onto the cradle, and tried to put on her polite professional secretary voice, "Please wait a moment."

When she crept into Mr. Gold's office, he was nowhere to be seen, as if he had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. "Mr. Gold?" She called out gently.

There was a tiny creek, and the closet door that housed Mr. Gold's spare ties and shirts opened a crack. "Belle..." called Mr. Gold in a whisper. She moved closer to the other side, she could still not see him and she rested her hand gently onto the closet door. "I'm not in," he said and the door promptly shut again.

More than a little puzzled, but still obliging to her boss, Belle walked back out to the waiting room. "Mr. Gold is not in at this time." 

"Oh really now," The woman said disbelieving, "Robert!" she hollered towards the main office, her shout seemed to reverberate throughout the building.

Mr. Gold cringed inside his closet, closing his eyes in the hope that would make her leave quicker.

Just then the phone rang again, and Belle had to go pick it up. "Hello?" She asked, forgetting her telephone spiel with the fierce woman glaring daggers at her.

She realized it didn't matter though when the voice on the line said, "Petal?"

Belle frowned, "Papa? What is it?" It was unheard of for him to call her during the day.

"It's all going wrong..." Her father slurred to her, and she realized he was drunk before lunch and this was not good.

"Are you at the shop? Is Peter there?" Belle asked worried, but that woman was still staring at her. "Wait a minute Papa..." She covered up the mouthpiece, and turned to Milah. "Can I take a message for you?" she asked.

The woman's red lips pursed tighter, and she picked up Mr. Gold's fine wool coat off the coat stand, and threw it to the floor, before treading on it, grinding it against the carpet viciously with her patent leather stilettos. "Tell him to sign the settlement." With that she left, slamming the front door behind her so hard Belle feared it would come off the hinges.

She remembered her father was still on the phone, and she uncovered it to speak back into it. "Papa?" She asked, but there was no answer. "Papa?" She called again the panic rising in her. But he was gone, goodness knows where and drunk.

She slammed the phone down, tears stinging her eyes. Then she picked it up to bash down again and again for good measure. She tried to stop the tears, and with all that happened today, she sat down and opened up the desk draw where she kept her sewing kit.

Holding back her tears she unzipped the sparkly blue case, lining up the iodine, the steri-strips and cuticle scissors on the desk. She pulled up her skirt, finding a smooth patch of flesh, somewhere new to mark. She took the cuticle scissors, and hunched over, to press the sharp point into the soft skin.

But before she could draw the first blood, she felt conscious of where she was, and turned her head towards the door that lead to Mr. Gold's office.

To her horror he was standing there, staring at her through the ajar door. His expression was blank, but there was the unmistakable look of shock in his eyes. He didn't say anything, and Belle didn't want a chance to see the revulsion that was coming.

She straightened up in her chair, and mechanically packed away her kit one by one fighting back her tears, staring straight ahead of herself. She shoved it away in her draw, and with the same robotic motions she pulled some papers off the side of her desk, and started shuffling them with no purpose.

When she allowed herself to check back at the door, Mr. Gold was gone.

***

The next few days passed by, and Mr. Gold never said anything to Belle about what he had seen. She held her breath every time he called her into his office, thinking this would be the time he fired her. But every time it was just to tell her to type up a letter, bill a client, or find a case file for him.

She convinced herself that maybe he hadn't seen anything, or he hadn't understood what he saw. Maybe she had gotten away with it.

Her father had returned home by the next day, hung over and brushing off her pleas to talk to her. Everything was fine, and she didn't need to worry herself about him or the business.

He had been cheerful to tell her that Gaston had called, that he had wanted to go out for dinner with her. He looked so pleased when she had called him back, to arrange a time to meet at Granny's diner.

Which here she was now, listening to him talk about his father's landscaping business, and how they were planning to hire some seasonal workers to keep up with the summer workload.

It was all perfectly pleasant, if not dull. Belle managed to nod and smile in the appropriate places as she zoned out.

"...and I've really been thinking about the future, and what I want out of it."

Belle blinked, tried to look interested, "oh?"

"Yeah," Gaston grinned at her from across the booth. "I want marriage and babies."

Belle was careful to keep her smile from faltering, "most people do," she agreed.

"And you Belle? What do you want?"

Adventure, to run away from her life in Storybrooke, "the same."

That seemed to please Gaston, and he reached over to take his hand in his. "I know this seems really forward, especially with what happened to you." He gave her hand a gentle sympathetic squeeze, "but I was really hoping for a relationship with you."

"A relationship?" Belle echoed, and was unable to suppress an embarrassed giggle.

"I mean, we don't need to move quickly, but I really think I can take care of you and your father." Gaston was leaning forward now in his eagerness, waiting for some kind of answer from her.

Belle thought of her father, and how happy he would be. He really liked Gaston, he knew his father through their businesses. Gaston was reliable and sensible, really too good to be considering a shy frumpy girl like herself.

It made sense, there was really no reason to say no. She gave him a smile, and squeezed his hand back, "I think I'd like to try...a relationship," she tested the word out.

Gaston was pleased with the answer, "is it too forward to ask to kiss you Belle?"

She shook her head smiling shyly, unable to meet his eyes as he leaned across the table. Still holding her hand in his he pressed the lips together in a short, innocent and inoffensive kiss.

It was over soon enough, and Belle looked up to meet Gaston's expectant eyes. She gave him a smile. It wasn't terrible, maybe even pleasant. The idea that someone may desire her left her feeling giddy.

Belle hadn't noticed her boss standing by the counter, watching the entire scene unfold. He stoically watched the two young people obviously having a date. Belle was his employee, he shouldn't be feeling this jealous rage building inside of him. The demon wanted to explode out and tear the handsome young man away from her and deliver a beating with his cane right there in the middle of the diner. 

"Order's ready, Mr. Gold." Granny's voice interrupted his violent fantasy and he had to tear his eyes away from Belle to take the paper bag and hand over the money to her.

Gold didn't wait for change or look back at the couple, he wasn't sure he could bear it. Instead he leaned heavy on his cane to leave the diner and get into his black Cadillac parked around the corner. He sat there for some time, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen into the darkened street.

He was a weak man, he couldn't fight his inner beast any longer. He reached to the glove box, and opened it, fishing the red marker out of it. He carefully set the pen on the dark leather passenger seat, mind made up. The beast would finally be unleashed onto the beauty.

***

The next day, Belle was sitting at her typewriter audio typing up a letter Mr. Gold had dictated. So absorbed by the voice coming through the headphones and rhythmic movements of her fingers over the keys, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a letter was slammed down in front of her.

She removed her headphones, and looked up to see Mr. Gold standing before her. He was in such a state of rage that he looked ready to spit fire.

"What is this Belle?" He demanded.

Belle's mouth moved ineffectively a few times in bewilderment, it was a letter with red rings marked through it..

"There are three typing mistakes in this letter, one of which I believe is a spelling error." Mr. Gold told her gravely.

"Oh." Belle peered at the circled words, they were indeed mistakes.

"This isn't the first time either. I've let it go the first few weeks you were here, to give you some time to adjust to the new job. But this is unacceptable Belle, do you know how this makes me look when I send something out with errors like this? It's sloppy; it makes my work, my entire business look sloppy."

Belle nodded in agreement.

"Type it again." He told her, and stormed back into his office.

Belle immediately retyped the letter, and took it to Mr. Gold. The single sheet laid in front of him, and he read it carefully. His hand picked up the red marker on his desk, there was an audible noise as he uncapped it and circled a word in the document.

Lips twisted in disgust, Mr. Gold picked it up, screwed it up into a tight ball and offered it back to her. "You're wasting my time." The lawyer told her, and resumed his own work.

Belle sat back at her reception desk and she tried to calm herself, being nervous would just cause more mistakes. She really wanted to do this right for Mr. Gold, she wanted to offer a piece of herself to him with every menial task she performed. An idea came to her, and she took out the sewing kit that was still in her desk draw. With the cuticle scissors she cut out a small piece out the back of the hem of her brown corduroy skirt and laid it on the typewriter. Carefully she typed:

A piece of me,  
A small sacrifice,  
To Mr. R. Gold

Laying her declaration to the side, she started retyping the letter for the 2nd time. she typed it with two fingers checking every key before she pressed it. It took her an hour, but it was perfect. When the client Mr. Gold had been seeing in his office left, Belle carried the immaculate letter carefully through the corridor of curios like it was the dead sea scrolls itself.

Mr. Gold was leaning heavily back in his chair, reading a leather bound law book when she came in. He didn't acknowledge her as she laid the letter on the desk in front of her and waited for his approval.

He continued to ignore her, and she fidgeted until it became clear he wasn't even going to read it this time.

Wordlessly she turned her back to leave the office, and Mr. Gold let his eyes leave the pages of his book. The small square of missing fabric that revealed the back of her knee was enough to make him snap the law book in his hands shut. "Belle, " he stopped her.

The sharp noise made Belle jump, and she turned back to face him. "Yes, Mr. Gold?"

"Quite frankly dearie..." His dark eyes roamed over her, taking in the brown shapeless skirt and stretched good-will cardigan. "You attire is disgusting."

Belle's breath caught in her throat at the criticism.

"You are the first thing my clients see when they come to my office, and the image you present is unacceptable."

Belle nodded, stinging from his words.

"And your hair," Mr. Gold continued, as if every annoyance was pouring out from him now he had started. "You're always playing with it, it's unprofessional. You're either going to have to start wearing a hair net, or stop playing with it."

Belle took a deep breath, stealing herself. "Yes, Mr. Gold."

***

That very evening, using some of the money from her first pay check she went shopping for a more professional outfit. She picked out a cream shirt with little black poka-dots on it, that had an extra part to the collar that she could tie into a big floppy bow at her throat. She found a plain black pencil skirt that came to just above her knees, and a pair of smart black court shoes with a heel higher than she'd ever worn before (which wasn't very high). No more socks to work, she brought 5 pairs of nude tights.

She was determined to look like a professional secretary that didn't look out of place Mr. Gold's classy office.

She didn't trust herself to not fiddle with her brown curls, so she brought a hair net decorated with little white purls, and made sure to clip her long bangs to the side so it twisted together in one neat curl that hung down in front of her ear.

When Mr. Gold walked in that morning, he may have given her a cursory glance but voiced neither praise or criticism for her new look. 

Belle was sharpening pencils after lunch, careful to get the shavings into the waste paper bin, when Mr. Gold buzzed on the intercom and asked her to join him in the library.

The library was another room off from his office, and was where he kept all his law books with a small round table in the center. It was also a bit of a junk room, with disused pieces of furniture pushed into the corners that could do with a dusting.

Mr. Gold was dictating into his Dictaphone when Belle let herself in, "...an offer of compensation is required from within 3 months of receipt of this letter, or I will be forced to pursue the case in court. Yours Sincerely." He clicked the stop button, and gave Belle a welcoming smile. "Ah, Miss. French. The phone is ringing." He looked at the green telephone on the round table.

Belle looked at it in confusion, it wasn't ringing at all. Maybe she was mad, or Mr. Gold was?

"Brrring!" Mr. Gold suddenly trilled, rolling the Rs in that Scottish accent of his. "Brrrring!" he said again, waving his hand at the phone indicating she should answer it, his movements larger and more flamboyant than she had ever seen before. Usually he was so cool and calculating.

Belle laughed nervously, as she realized what he was doing. She was also relieved that neither of them was mad. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear, "Hello, you have reached the office of Mr. R. Gold..."

Mr. Gold shook his head, getting closer to her and leaning on his cane. "Come on dearie, I'm sure you can get a bigger voice out of that tiny throat of yours."

Belle took a deep breath, and repeated in the loudest most confident voice she could muster, "Hello, you have reached the office of Mr. R. Gold, attorney at law."

Mr. Gold's smile widened, and he clapped his hands together at her success. "There you go, I knew you could do it." He limped over to the lime green velvet sofa, unbuttoning his jacket and took a seat. He patted the space next to him to indicate she should sit there.

"So Belle," he began the pleasant warm smile back on his face, "did you have a date a few nights ago?"

Belle had not been expecting that, and tried to suppress a nervous smile as she answered, "Yes." She couldn't meet his soft gaze.

"Did you have sex?"

Belle erupted into sniggers, head bent over as if that would mask her reaction. "No." The very idea of sex with Gaston seemed so remote. When she finally stole a glance at him, the warm softness to his eyes was still there.

"Are you shy?" Mr. Gold asked, and added, "I'm shy."

Belle gave him an incredulous look, "you're not shy, you're a lawyer!" Mr. Gold just seemed to always ooze confidence.

A small sound of amusement came from Mr. Gold, "Believe me dear, I'm shy. I overcome my shyness, to get things done." 

He was so close she could smell the spicy notes of his cologne. "I don't think you're shy," she told him trying to contain her adoration. Mr. Gold was everything opposite of herself. 

"Now Belle," he said softly, not letting her eyes leave his this time. "I know as your employer we have a..." he seemed to be searching for the right word, as a lawyer the right word meant the difference between winning and losing a case, "...a prescribed relationship. But I want you to feel that you can talk to me about your problems. You know that right?"

The earlier embarrassment had vanished from Belle, and she was captured by the sincerity and kindness in his voice. "Yes," she whispered.

Mr. Gold's expression seemed to take an edge of sadness when he asked, "So what's with the sewing kit and Band-Aids?"

Belle shrugged, it was obvious what it was anyway.

The kind smile came back to Mr. Gold and he leaned forward, "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Belle smiled back at him, "ok." 

The lawyer leaned over the back of the sofa, and as if by magic produced a large cup and saucer, filled with dark and rich hot chocolate. He offered it to her, "if you'll have it?" he said his head tilting to the side slightly.

Belle smiled back at him as she took the cup and saucer, and took a sip of the hot creamy chocolate. It was the best hot chocolate she had ever tasted in her life, and it relaxed and comforted her.

Mr. Gold seemed to enjoy watching her drink his gift, and he let her take a few more sips before he asked softly, "Why do you cut yourself Belle?"

Belle let the cup and saucer rest on her lap, her eyes down on it. "I don't know," she told him letting her eyes drift back up to his.

"Is it because you feel pain inside, and that's the only way for it to come to the surface, and when you see that pain is it finally evidence that you are really here?" He continued, "And then watching the wound heal, it's comforting, isn't it?"

Mr. Gold had managed to sum up in a few eloquent lines, what 5 months of therapy had never managed to put it's finger on. "I..." Belle stuttered, the words caught in her throat, "that's a way to put it," she nodded in agreement. 

"Well Belle, I'm going to tell you something. Are you ready to listen?" She nodded, and he leaned his face a fraction closer to hers. "You will never ever do that to yourself again. You are over that. It's in the past. You will never do that to yourself again." He repeated. 

She hung onto every word he said, and let what he was telling her sink in for a few seconds. "Okay," she agreed, and it felt like the easiest decision she'd ever made. 

A small smile tugged at Mr. Gold's lips, and there was a genuine warmth in his dark brown eyes, which she could see now were flecked with gold. "Now you know what I want you to do? You're going to finish work early, you will call your father and tell him you do not need to be picked up after work, you're a big girl you can go home by yourself. You're going to go for a walk in the fresh air. You're going to need to find something new to do, because you will never be doing that thing again. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Belle said under the spell of his words, and even then she knew it was true, she would never cut herself again.

_I called my father and told him I didn't need a ride that day, or any other day for that matter; I didn't wait for his questions before I hung up. I walked all the way home, taking a short cut through Storybrooke park, and it felt like the first walk of my life. Because Mr. Gold had given me permission to do this, it was as if he was walking right there beside me. I couldn't help but feel a tendril reaching out from Mr. Gold's darker side, a connection we shared because he had discovered something about me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assume the position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is where safe and sane go out the window, but make no mistake this is 100% consensual.

_The next day I didn't bring my cuticle scissors or iodine, but I did make another typing mistake._

From over her shoulder, Mr. Gold slammed down the letter with it's red mark in front of Belle. He was leaning so close to her, his hot breath whispered over her neck as he growled out, "you just have one thing to do Miss. French, can't you do anything right?" Belle couldn't see him, but he sounded livid. 

Belle opened her mouth, unable to find the words, and she heard him hiss and pull away in disgust.

"I'm..sorry!" Belle tried to apologize.

"Don't apologize to me!" Mr. Gold snapped back, and he paced back and forth like a wild animal before he stopped to fix her with a hard stare. "Just what goes on in that tiny head of yours?"

Belle didn't have any excuses for another typo, and she turned away from the intense accusation in his dark brown eyes. There was a fire in there she felt wanted to consume her.

Mr. Gold let go of a sound of disgust, and turned on his cane to head back to his office. But after one step he seemed to have a change of mind, and stopped looking at the floor thinking what to do. He looked conflicted, as if he was fighting something within himself.

Was this the moment he fired her? Belle wondered. She had to remember to let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

Pushing back the long brown hair from his face, Mr. Gold pointed at her, and then at the paper in front of her. "Bring that to my office," he told her, and limped out of the reception area.

Belle took a few minutes to prepare herself, and she picked up the letter in both hands. The walk to his office felt longer than usual, but she didn't feel scared. She felt like things had taken another turn, but whatever it was she trusted him implicitly. She wanted to see every new hidden side to Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold was waiting for her leaning on his cane, and he raised his chin, "put the letter on my desk."

Silently, Belle did as she was told, careful not to make any sound on the plush carpet. Her back to him, he told her, "Now I want you to bend over and put your elbows on the desk, and read it back to me."

Belle didn't dare look behind, she didn't understand what he was requesting, "Why..?"

But Mr. Gold cut her off, "Don't talk, just do it."

Swallowing, Belle leaned over onto her elbows, propping herself over the letter. The position made her arch her back and her buttocks jutted out in the air, the split in the front of the skirt gapping open at her thigh. She heard the muffled sound of Mr. Gold coming up behind her and she fixed her eyes on the typed letter. "Dear Mr S Pigford and Mr. T. Pigford..." She began, and settled in to read the letter, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "In reference to you and your brother's inquiry into a possible lawsuit against Strong Sticks Construction Co..."

SMACK.

Belle felt her entire body jolt with the force of the slap Mr. Gold had just landed on her ass. Mouth open in shock and surprise she looked over her shoulder at him. He looked down at her impassively. "Keep reading," he commanded her.

It crossed her mind that Belle could stop this, she could straighten up and walk out of this office right this moment, like any normal person would. But she didn't want this to stop, so she continued reading, "...Upon reviewing the evidence and documentation you provided me..." SMACK, another hard smack to her ass that seemed to reverberate around the room. "...and my own research into relevant construction and contract law..." SMACK, this time the slap forced the air out of her lungs, and she had to hold back a small groan. "...I believe that a lawsuit is viable, and would suggest you and your brother arrange an appointment to discuss your legal options." SMACK. "Um, my secretary has prepared some reading material from prior cases that have set a precedent..." SMACK. "Umf, a precedent for situations similar to your own. If you have any further questions please do not hesitate to contact me." SMACK. "Yours Sincerely, R. Gold."

"Read it again."

Belle was unable to hold back the small groans that escaped as he she read it a second time, the sharp blows to her ass coming quicker. Breathy sounds peppered her reading, and her eyes grew half lidded as she read his name again, and the smacks built to a crescendo, the lost blow landing as she cried out "Yours Sincerely, R. Gold!"

Mr. Gold fell forward covering her back, using his hand to prop himself over her so their bodies were not in contact, only his thumb just barely touched her little finger. His breathing was quicker, matching her own heavy breathing, and she could feel his breath tickling the strands of curly hair that had escaped her high bun. She stared at the tiny way their hands connected. His thumb was made the smallest movement against her skin, and she curled her little finger around him, wanting more of this intimate contact.

Mr. Gold pulled back, straightening up, leaving her breathless and ass throbbing with the spanking he had just delivered to her. "Type it again," he told her back to his business tone and walked away to go sit on his sofa.

More than a little stunned about what had just transpired between them, she took the letter with her, and went to the toilets. Pulling up her skirt and her underwear down, she inspected her throbbing buttocks in the mirror. It was red where he had spanked her over and over, alternating each cheek with every strike.

Why wasn't she more horrified about this? This wasn't what normally happened at the work place, was it? What did this mean about her 'prescribed employee relationship'? She couldn't deny the way it felt, the way it still felt. It felt good.

Belle straightened herself out, and went to retype the letter. When she delivered it to Mr. Gold, he was still on his sofa and now reading a case file. She placed it carefully on the side table, and smiled expectantly. But he ignored her, and deliberately licked his finger to carefully turn a page.

Realization dawned on Belle, and she let out a quiet, "oh." this was how it was going to be, this little game that was going on between them. He'd punish her, and they would carry on as if nothing was different. She couldn't contain the knowing smile, at the knowledge of this little secret they now shared, and she left Mr. Gold's office without either of them saying another word.

It wasn't an hour later, when Mr. Gold passed her in the photo-copying room where she was standing over the machine mid way through copying a file. He knocked on the door to catch her attention, "excellent letter, dear." He told her, and flashed one of his little smiles at her, and left her with the copy machine strobing light beneath the book she had pressed down to the glass.

Belle allowed herself a grin, at the rush of pleasure his small praise brought her.

That night while she was washing up she told her father that the locks could come off the kitchen cabinets. He had smiled and hugged her, with no idea who and what had inspired this new change in his daughter.

 

***

__

The next day on my way home from work, I went for a walk through the forest. I went to the toll bridge, and dropped the storage box with the foil disney princesses and battered sewing kit into the fast flowing river waters. I watched them and the tools they contained sink out of sight down the river, and felt apart of myself go with them. I felt a weight lift from my heart, and I for the first time since my mother had died I felt free.

The games with Mr. Gold began. Every typo was marked with Mr. Gold's red pen, and Belle found herself on the receiving end of a variety of imaginative punishments. Sometimes he spanked her, sometimes he made her crawl around the office on her hands and knees to deliver a letter to him in her mouth. He had leather cuffs and collars he'd link together and make her sit in the corner her hands bound behind her back, or sometimes she'd have to work like that. Once he made her lean over his desk repeating "I am stupid" for 5 minutes as she stared at the typo "allomoney," and she struggled to keep a straight face the entire time.

Belle played along with these little games, her breath catching in her throat every time he bellowed "Miss French!" from the hallway. The antiques on the pedestals that lined the hall way had been replaced one by one with her framed typing errors, the mistakes ringed in red, each representing a punishment she had received. Soon the pedestals were full, and her framed letters were hung on the walls, a corridor of white typed pages and their glaring red mistakes.

Despite the glares and snarls he gave her, the sighs of exasperation whenever he waved a typoed letter about, she could tell he was enjoying the theatrics and games just as much as she was.

She gladly carried out every whimsical order, to change the light in the hallway to a 60watt light bulb, to iron and starch his pocket squares and arrange them in order of dominant colors. When he checked her work and gave her a little smile, his satisfaction became her own.

He told her what to eat, and Belle could not wait for the evening call to him to tell him what was for dinner.

"It's hamburgers and fries, with ice-cream dessert." She waited with baited breath for Mr. Gold on the other end of the line.

She heard him sigh softly as he considered what she would have, "You can have the hamburger, 6 fries, one tablespoon of ketchup, and as much ice-cream as you want."

Her father looked at her oddly as she measured the over large amount of ketchup onto the 6 fries. But she didn't care because this is what Mr. Gold told her she could have, and she savored every fry licking the ketchup from her fingers. Every bite reminded her of him, and it brought her bliss.

She was still going on dates with Gaston, it made her father happy and she couldn't find the voice to say no when he called. But she did seem to start day dreaming of Mr. Gold when Gaston droned on, and he was too self absorbed to notice. He was nice, he had mellowed out since High School, he was just...dull.

Belle wanted Mr. Gold, and he must want her too right? She hadn't missed all those hungry looks he had given her, when her clothing was disheveled and her breathing heavy from their spanking sessions. She just needed him to open up about his feelings. 

Belle flicked through the glossy pages of cosmo, as she laid on her back on her bed. Cosmo's advice was to try some breezy humor to get your man to open up, and whatever you do, do not jump to relationship talk.

She flung the magazine to the side, and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Mr. Gold fixing her with one of his heated dark stares, the one that betrayed what he was thinking of doing to her.

Biting her lip, she let her hand glide over her belly, to touch herself through her cotton white panties. Just thinking about the older man made her wet, and she rubbed her clitoris in slow circles letting out a soft groan.

She opened her eyes, this wasn't right, Mr. Gold wasn't her boyfriend. She closed her eyes again, and concentrated on thinking about Gaston. She tried to think about the adoring kisses he gave her when he dropped her off from her date, that always reminded her of being slobbered on by a dog.

Belle frowned, this just wasn't working. She went back to thinking about Mr. Gold, pining her down with just his eyes, she knew everything was wrong about the situation but it never failed to make her panties wet. "Oh Mr. Gold..." She moaned to herself, rubbing herself faster. She imagined she was on her hands and knees in front of him, and he was just watching her. The pressure was building up from within her, "I'm your secretary." She said aloud, her orgasm was getting closer. In her mind she was on her hands and knees, he was watching with those dark brown eyes that hid such passion, and she was crying out "I'm your secretary!"

She let out a gasp, and she squeezed her thighs around her hand as she came. Mr. Gold Mr. Gold Mr. Gold...that was all she could think about as the rush of her orgasm spread through her body.

Belle let her head fall back onto the bed, she felt spent and boneless. She was his secretary, he was her boss, she knew their relationship was wrong on so many levels. But she wanted him, and she was sure he wanted her just as much.

***

Some time ago Mr. Gold had ordered Belle to bring in a small desk and chair from the library, and it sat in front of his desk so she could do her typing in front of him. It was perhaps sized for a child, and her knees hit the underside. But Belle was content to be under Mr. Gold's watchful eye. 

"How many inches away was the furnace?" 

Except he wasn't so watchful today, he had been on the phone most of the morning with a client.

"Yes, I am aware you care for 8 children, and shoe sized dwellings are inadequate." Mr. Gold was sounding ever more exasperated. 

Belle typed away at her letter, the type bars clacking up to hit the paper with each letter. She hit the return bar to bring up the paper, and saw she had mistyped 'incorrigible' as 'incorrigibelle'. 

"Is this the overweight child or the child from Boston?" Mr. Gold asked his client.

She sighed, picking up the white-out to blot out her mistake. She stopped herself before the brush touched the paper, and looked over her typewriter at the lawyer.

"Well I'm confused now dearie! Just when was the banister broken?!"

Belle bit her lip, and mischievously put the brush back in the white-out bottle without correcting her mistake. She plucked the letter from the type writer, and took it over to his desk. She had brought a new white shirt with frills around the neckline, which she kept unbuttoned as low as possible, and purposefully leaned to give him a clear view of her cleavage when she set the letter down in front of him.

"You may have a case if you can prove the negligence was not on your part..." Mr. Gold grumbled, and much to Belle's disappointment didn't check over the letter. He just signed it and handed it back to her.

Belle folded it and put it in the envelope, and slowly licked the gummed edge, trying to impart on Mr. Gold exactly what she'd rather be licking.

That caught his attention, and she was sure there was a flash of lust in his eyes before he fought it back and he covered the phone with his hand. "I'm working," he told her sternly before going back to his client. Belle sighed in frustration giving up, there would be no games today it would seem and she went to sit at her small desk in frustration.

"Give me a week and I'll have something for you. I'm sorry, the office has been..." Mr. Gold continued to try and appease the irate woman on the phone, even if he was having difficulty ignoring Belle. "...overwhelmed."

Belle finished up the next few hours of work, and it was time to go home. She didn't want to go home though, but there was absolutely nothing she could find to do. Mr. Gold had been busy, and spent the entire afternoon in his office working diligently. She felt like she had been cheated out a day of interaction with the older lawyer, and she craved it. 

With her purse slung over her shoulder, she hesitated in the corridor lined by all her framed typing errors. "I'm going home now Mr. Gold," she shouted towards his office. 

Mr. Gold sat at his desk, contrary to what she might think Belle was not so easy to ignore. She was tempting him, and he was trying his best to resist. "Goodbye Ms. French." Once she was gone, the temptation to find some error in her typing as an excuse to have her bent over his desk would be easier.

Belle huffed to herself, giving it one last try, "If you need any more typing done," she shouted, "I can come back in the evening if you like?"

More temptation for him. Mr. Gold was grateful that he was hidden away in his office so she could not see the conflict and longing playing out on his face. He stared at the door separating them like a forlorn puppy. He wanted to call out 'please stay', but instead "Thank you, that will be all," tripped out from his tongue. Frustrated with himself he ran his fingers through his hair and silently berated himself.

Belle herself was left feeling disappointed, and she left the building for the night, knowing he would not call her back in for a few more hours of 'over-time'.

***

Some evenings, Belle went to the diner for a chat and some cake with Ruby, and whomever else was there. The past few months she had changed, and people seemed to like talking to this new confident Belle that Mr. Gold had found and nurtured.

Today there was also Sheriff Graham, and the three of them were gossiping at the counter.

"It's just, weird," the Sheriff explained, "I know she's the Mayor but she's always finding some excuse to be at the Sheriff's station. Then the other week, I was looking for this paper work on my desk, leaning over and..." The young man appeared to blush, and he avoided the girl's stares. "She grabbed my ass."

Belle and Ruby looked at each other, mouths hanging open slightly.

"I know it must sound strange from a guy, but I don't want her doing that!"

Belle and Ruby nodded at him, faces showing sympathy.

"That's definitely sexual harassment, you should sue." Ruby told him as she leaned onto the counter.

Graham gave her an incredulous look, "but she's the Mayor!"

Belle cleared her throat, "I think you definitely have a case," she said in her professional voice. "My boss, Mr. Gold, he handles lots of sexual harassment lawsuits, you should definitely consult with him."

Graham still didn't look convinced, "Mr. Gold, really?" He exchanged a look with Ruby, Mr. Gold had a fearsome reputation around the town, but he kept to himself. "Is he any good?"

Just thinking about Mr. Gold sent Belle to her faraway place, and she sighed a little unable to stop the little smile she got whenever she thought about her boss. "He's the best," she declared with a sigh.

Both Ruby and the Sheriff were giving each other odd looks over the daydreaming belle when Graham's radio cracked. He turned away to answer it, "She's right here. What is wrong?" As he listened his eyes went to Belle, "Ok, I got it." He clicked off the radio and put it back onto his belt. "Belle, that was the hospital, they're looking for you. Your father is in there."

***

Belle went immediately to the hospital to find her father. He had checked himself in, he had been trying to cut back on drinking and the detox had gotten too much for him.

She had watched him from the window, fighting back tears as her once strong and joyful father looked so pale and weak now. He was hooked up to monitors and IVs as nurses bustled around him. He was asleep now, and in the best place.

There was nothing she could do to help him, and there was no one there to comfort her. In a daze she left the hospital, and walked the streets of Storybrooke alone. She couldn't bear to go back to her empty house, and instead her feet took her to the nice neighborhood. It was still mild this late in summer, and she looked at the Victorian houses painted in their pretty colors, searching for the right one.

She counted the house numbers, and realized the large salmon pink house was the one she was looking for. She didn't know if Mr. Gold was home and she didn't feel brave enough to knock on the front door. There was no life visible from the front of the house, the curtains drawn tight shut against her. She had to check for sure though and went to the side gate. It was unlocked and she crept around the house to the back garden. It was perfectly manicured, with neat rose bushes everywhere. Their blooms had mostly died by now, the dried multicoloured petals scattered around the garden. She found her way around the back to patio doors which revealed a living room, styled in the rich colors and antique woods Mr. Gold loved so much.

Belle let out a relieved breath, when she saw Mr. Gold there at a spinning wheel. His back was to her, and he must be concentrating so hard on twine that he pulled out of the machine, the wheel spinning in its rhythmic hypnotic motion. She had never actually seen him spin before. He was out of his jacket, his gold armbands keeping his sleeves up and out the way. With her arms wrapped tightly around herself she crept up to the large glass doors and knocked on them to get his attention.

Mr. Gold nearly fell off the stool in surprise as he spun around, eyes wide with shock to see his secretary there in his back garden. He didn't bother pick up his cane and he limped awkwardly the short distance to the french doors, where Belle waited on the other side. The wheel slowed it's pace without his attention in the background, the spokes no longer a blur. The older man unlocked the door, and took in her puffy face and red eyes, the strands of chestnut hair falling out of her pony tail. "Yes, Belle?"

She made the effort to smile up at him, "Hi," her breath coming out heavier than it should have. "I just..." she began, trying to find the words. Now she was here before him, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Him? Comfort? Someone to talk to? "I need you to...." help me forget, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

Mr. Gold's brow was creased in confusion, and his fingers resting against the door frame twitched in their twisting motion of an invisible string, which he always done when he was thinking or nervous. "You need me to what, dear?" He had meant to say 'dearie', to frighten her off and keep her at bay, but a more genuine endearment slipped out instead and he cursed himself for it. 

"I wanted..." Belle tried to find the courage, but the way he stared at her uncomfortably made her swallow down what she really wanted to say. "I wanted to remind you not to forget you have an appointment at 9 o'clock with Mr. Dumpty."

Mr. Gold didn't look convinced that she came all this way to tell him about a meeting, but he didn't want to press any further for danger of finding out the real reason. "Thank you," he muttered quietly, averting his gaze down so his hair fell in front of his face, so he wouldn't have to look at the obvious distress in her face.

Belle gave one last smile at him, and left his garden, knowing he was standing there watching making sure she left. When her back was turned her face creased up and she let the tears fall, that continued on her long walk through Storybrooke to the empty house she'd have to stay in alone.

Belle had come to seek out Mr. Gold at his home, and they both knew an invisible line had been crossed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit nervous about the "I am stupid" bit, it's from the original short story. Of course Mr. Gold doesn't really think she's stupid, it's just a kinky power game between them, and Belle loves it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Gold doesn't want to play anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um lots of masturbation in this part, enjoy?

_After Mr. Gold turned me away from his house, things changed between us. He threw out all his red pens, and he moved me back to my old desk in the waiting room. I kept making mistakes but it was as if he didn't care. He treated me like a regular secretary, and I began to wonder if that's all I was to him anymore._

Belle's father was soon released from the hospital, and he was doing remarkably well. He hadn't touched a drop of drink in a week, and had been convinced to take a few days rest before going back to work in the shop. She was hopeful that maybe this time, her father would manage to stay sober and put his energy into managing the shop rather than the bottle.

While the worry for her father had, at least temporarily, relaxed somewhat, the relationship between Mr. Gold and herself deepened. 

Belle tried everything to get Mr. Gold's attention, any time she'd hand him a freshly typed invoice or letter, he'd barely look at it. Neither did he look at her when she bent deliberately over the desk onto her elbows, trying to give him the sultriest look imaginable.

The lawyer just growled impatiently and waved a file under her nose.

Belle sighed and took the file from him, but this day she stopped and tried to take Cosmo's advice. She took a deep breath and said as casually as possible, "I guess you spun a little magic with the Dumpty case."

That made Mr. Gold stop the shuffling of papers and files on his desk. He looked up at her in confusion.

"You know, spun..." She nodded her head towards the spinning wheel in the corner of the office, hoping he would pick up the joke and give her a light chuckle at least.

Mr. Gold turned to the spinning wheel, then back to her, but he showed no amusement at her little joke. "Oh yes," he told her and waved his hand at her to tell her to get back to work.

After Cosmo's advice had failed her so spectacularly, Belle decided to up her game. She was no longer happy to be just Mr. Gold's secretary. 

She had a rather risqué photo taken, on her knees in only black underwear and suspenders. She channeled her inner Betty Page as she posed with her hair wild and down, hips thrust out with her hands lacked behind her head, looking thoroughly debauched for the camera, for him. She left it in a pretty vintage frame on his desk with half a dozen long stemmed red roses. There could be no way Mr. Gold could misunderstand her intentions.

But the photo disappeared, and Mr. Gold never mentioned it.

Belle experimented with spanking herself at home, getting out a flat wooden hair brush to slap her ass with it. She soon realized it just wasn't the same, it wasn't Mr. Gold, and it didn't turn her on the way he did. 

She was almost resigned to a boring life with Gaston, when one morning as she stepped over the grass lawn on her way to work she looked down to see a large snail in front of her patent leather shoes. She would give it one last go, one last push into making Mr. Gold react.

Belle sat at her desk in the waiting room, a knowing smile on her lips as she put the now dead snail into a piece of paper, and folded it neatly into an envelope she had addressed to Mr. Gold at this very office in her loopy bubble like handwriting. She licked the gummed edge slowly and carefully.

Little did she know that Mr. Gold was secretly watching her from behind the open hallway door. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help but sneak little peeks of the little minx when she wasn't looking. She had bloomed from the scared little girl into a confident woman that made the blood rush away from his brain to inappropriate parts of his body.

The photograph he had found on his desk made his mouth run dry, and although he knew he should destroy it, burn away the evidence for the impending lawsuit. But he shoved it into the bottom desk of his draw, face down along with the tea cup she had broken when she had first come for her interview.

Now she was licking the envelope, in the way that took every part of his will power to not drag her over the desk and give her a good paddling for trying to seduce her employer like that.

Mr. Gold slipped silently back behind the door and hobbled into the restroom. He splashed his face with cold running water, and scrubbed at it to banish his inappropriate thoughts. He looked at himself in the mirror, all wrinkles and silver streaked hair. He was twice her age, he had no business getting involved in such a lovely young thing.

He smoothed his hair down and set his best bored lawyer poker face, and this time with his cane made his entry proper through the waiting room. He knew her clear blue eyes followed him, as the sound of her hand slamming down onto the stapler crunched through a bundle of papers. Mr. Gold didn't look back at Belle, lest he damn himself and her along with him.

***

The next day, Mr. Gold was going through his post, sorting checks into a pile to cash, things that needed to be followed up immediately, things that could wait, and junk mail into the trash.

He came to a hand written letter, and he frowned when he recognized the writing. Slowly and carefully he slit the top with his ornate silver letter opener, and pulled the thick headed paper out onto the desk.

When the paper opened, he gasped and pushed himself away from the desk in horror.

Sitting on the middle of the cream paper, was a crushed, semi dried snail. Bits of broken shell and entrails smeared and stained the otherwise perfectly pristine paper. It sat there limp and flaccid, it mocked and taunted him.

It was disgusting.

It was brilliant.

She was brilliant.

Mr. Gold opened his side draw, where the one red pen he hadn't been able to throw out sat in a gold dish. Uncapping it, he drew a red circle around the mess of the snail. But one circle wasn't enough, he kept going around and around this very big mistake. This was the error to end all errors.

He flung the pen away somewhere across the room, and pressed the intercom. "Miss French, join me in my office," he told her curtly. 

Belle knew what this was about, "but Miss. Muffet is waiting for your 11 o'clock appointment..." 

"She can wait, get in here now."

Belle grinned to herself, he had taken the bait. "Finally," she whispered.

She walked slowly to Mr. Gold's office, and she was cool and collected when she opened the door. Mr. Gold was sitting at his desk staring at her, composed and waiting for her with his hands folded together in front of him. The crushed snail encircled in red ink on the letter paper sat in the middle of the desk. They both knew what this was about.

Belle didn't fight the little smirk on her lips as she took her time to go the opposite side of the desk, and settle down on her elbows. She watched him, smile still playing on her lips, as she waited for his first move.

The door bell to the building chimed, and without any other reaction Mr. Gold told Belle cooly, "ignore it."

Mr. Gold stood from his high backed red leather chair, and using his cane moved around the desk until he was directly behind her to where she couldn't see him. She heard him inhale and let out a deep breath.

"Now pull up your skirt," he told her calmly.

Belle didn't turn to look at him, but asked "why?"

"You're not worried I'm going to fuck you, are you?" Mr. Gold's tone was quiet, and verging on mocking. "I'm not interested in that in the least. Now pull up your skirt," he ordered.

From the hall way that connected the waiting room and Mr. Gold's office, a called. "Belle?" A slight pause, and the voice got a bit closer, "Belle?"

Belle gasped quietly, it was Gaston. She had forgotten that they were supposed to have lunch together that day. She looked back at Mr. Gold, they didn't want to be discovered like this did they?

Mr. Gold didn't look concerned in the slightest. He was still staring down at her, his hands resting on the gold handle of his cane. "I said, pull up your skirt dearie."

Thinking quickly, Belle called out, "Gaston, I can't have lunch today. I'm a bit busy right now, I'll speak to you later."

"Oh ok..." Gaston sounded disappointed from the other side of the door, "talk to you later then."

There were a few seconds where Belle forgot to breath, until she was sure Gaston wasn't going to come through the door. She let her head go forward again, as she reached behind herself to pull up the tight pencil skirt until it bunched ungracefully around her waist.

"Now pull down your pantyhose and underwear," Mr. Gold said. Belle didn't immediately comply, and he must have noticed the hesitation. "I told you I'm not going to fuck you," he said lowly. 

She didn't know what he was going to do, he had never asked her to undress in any way before. But she trusted him implicitly, so she pulled down the tan color pantyhose and her white underwear so they bunched just below her crotch.

Mr. Gold closed his eyes for a second to collect himself at the sight before him, her ass smooth and perfect. She was just so beautiful in every way, he shouldn't be perverting her like this. He reached his hand out and ghosted it over the roundness without ever touching it.

Licking his lips, he discarded the cane somewhere on the floor. He reached to his trouser fly to unzip himself, pulled the hard length of his cock out, and started stroking himself. His breathing became heavier as his movements got quicker, and he let himself lean forward to steady himself with a hand on her shoulder.

Belle didn't move, or even look back. She listened to his breathing, it sounded like a small animal that only came out at night snuffling away in the dirt. She could hear the sound of the friction of skin on dry skin, and then a few hitched breaths from Mr. Gold before she felt something warm and wet soak the back of her shirt. He tightened his grip on her shoulder, as if he was scared to let go. Reluctantly the hand slid away, and Belle heard his fly zip up again.

She heard him make his way from behind her, moving awkwardly without his cane. He took his seat again in the leather chair, eyes heavy-lidded and the most undone she had ever seen him. He avoided her questioning gaze, as he brushed his long hair back away from his face as if in an attempt to get back some kind of order, but she could see his hands were shaking.

Belle watched him go through the motions, wanting so desperately to reach out to him. He looked so confused and lost, and she wanted to tell him it was ok, she understood what he felt, and she felt the same.

Mr. Gold started looking through a pile of folders to the side of his desk, and pick out one to hold to her. "Get these forms filled out, and then go have your lunch break, bring me my sandwich I'm eating lunch in." Mr. Gold said struggling to get back to some semblance of normal, "Have the usual," he attempted to smile at her. "But no mayonnaise," he waved around the file as he struggled to think. "And send in what's-her-name." 

The smile did nothing to hide the confusion in his eyes, and Belle wordlessly took the file from him. This was a big step for him she understood, and she thought best to leave him to gather his thoughts.

In a bit of a daze herself, she pulled her skirt back down and walked back to her desk to deposit the file and send Miss. Muffet in. She opened the top draw of her desk, and found a crumpled piece of paper and hurried to the toilets.

In the mirror she could see the wet marks where it had smeared onto the back of her shirt, and she tried to dab it with some paper towels. She looked at the mess, and let a small smile spread to her face. "Oh Mr. Gold," she said unable to keep the adoration out of her voice. He had given her a piece of himself.

Throwing the paper towels in the trash, she went and locked herself in the bathroom stall. She unfolded the crumpled piece of paper, it was one of her letters with the typos Mr. Gold had marked in red. It had obviously been well used, and around the edges were hole reinforcers so she could stick it up onto the wall.

Bell took a step back from it, and pressed herself back against the wall. "Oh Mr. Gold..." she said more lowly this time, and hitched her skirt over her hips so she could slide her hand into her white panties. "Cock," she said lowly, thinking how dirty it sounded, but god it turned her on. She thought about Mr. Gold as she stared to rub her clit, stroking the wetness already there. "Put your prick into my mouth," she whispered as she stared at the letter, thinking about the ways his eyes narrowed every time he spotted a mistake, one of her mistakes. "Screw me," she gasped rubbing herself harder, as her other hand found its way into her shirt and bra, and she squeezed her breast, imagining it was Mr. Gold ravaging her like this.

"Mayonnaise," she was trying not to cry out, but all the things that turned her on just tumbled out now, "roses, six french fries!" She was so close to her orgasm, "oh, Mr. Gold!" she said a bit more louder than she intended, as she went over the edge and felt herself clench and flutter, her body finding it's release.

Belle took a few moments to get her breath, but before she opened her eyes she whispered "Robert" to herself in contentment.

***

Belle went for her lunch sat in the diner, reading a book entitled 'Coming out as a Dominant/submissive':

"Most people believe the best way to live is to run from pain. But a much more joyful life embraces the entire spectrum of human feeling. If we can experience pain as well as pleasure, we can live a much deeper, meaningful life."

She sucked on the straw of her ice tea, contemplating how her life with Mr. Gold was going to move forward.

Mr. Gold also sat in his office contemplating how his life with Belle could possibly move forward from this. He had done the unthinkable, he had defiled her with his perversion. He limped over to the hallway, lined with all of Belle's framed letters. He'd taken this further than ever before, much too far. He just had never had anyone quite so willing as Belle. 

With a snarl he started smashing the glass to every frame, swiping the ones on the pedal stools off onto the floor, making sure every single one was broken.

He stormed back into the office and over to his filing cabinet, and found the one he kept the employee contracts in. Belle's was the newest on the top, but it also contained Milah's, Cora's, Regina's and the other girls who hadn't lasted a week. They were the sensible ones, no one should be near him. He took the entire file to the parking lot, setting the corner of the file on fire and watched the pages turn black and curl, turning into ash and floating away in the breeze, before he was forced to drop it onto the gravel.

Mr Gold went back to his office and to his desk, and pulled the bottom draw open so hard it nearly came out. His secret keep sakes of Belle's, the framed picture of her and the chipped cup. He tossed the photo frame across the room and heard it shatter with a satisfying crack. He was about to do the same with the cup when he felt his anger suddenly ebb away, and he shoved it back into the draw and shut it away.

Mr. Gold set a piece of heavy letter paper into the typewriter on a side table just next to his desk, and hunched over it as he typed with two fingers:

Dear Belle,  
This is disgusting. I'm sorry.  
I don't know why I'm like this.  
I'm a monster.

He hit the return bar to feed the paper up before ripping it from the machine. He stared at the admission for a long time, before swinging around in his chair and feeding the paper into the shredder. He was such a coward.

He leaned across the desk to press the intercom, "please come to my office immediately Belle, bring your typing scores," he said into the small box before sitting back and waiting for her.

Belle had just arrived back from lunch, and carried Mr. Gold's sandwich in the take out bag when she saw the corridor to the lawyers office. Broken glass lay strewn over the dark red carpet, every one of her framed typos had been broken.

She carefully picked her way through the glittering shards of glass, and when she opened the door to Mr. Gold's office the first thing she saw at her feet was the broken frame of the picture of herself she had given him. Her own eyes stared back at her from the cracked glass.

Full of concern she looked up to see Mr. Gold sitting at his desk, his face impassive but underneath the iron control he was trying to exert over himself he was shaken. She knew him well enough by now to see that. "What happened?" She asked, as she came closer to his desk and set his lunch down on it carefully as not to disturb a wild animal.

The lawyer ignored the question, "are you pregnant?" he asked.

Belle frowned gently in confusion and said, "no."

"Do you plan to get pregnant?"

She looked into his face, trying to read him, but answered him as she had the first time they had met, "no," she said with a small shake of her head.

"Do you live in a house or an apartment?"

Her eyes never leaving his she said, "a house."

"Alone?"

"With my father."

Mr. Gold seemed relieved to break their gaze, and pressed the secret switch to his rose garden. This time Belle didn't look at it, she kept her eyes locked onto him.

With a withering look that seemed to take all his strength he looked at the crumpled certificate in her hand. "Are those your test scores?"

"Yes," Belle leaned over to hand them to him, but he flinched slightly and held up his hand to say he didn't really want to see them. 

He peered up at her through the strands of brown hair, head tilted to side, "do you really want to be my secretary?" he asked, voice a bit quieter than before, a note of disbelief to his question.

Belle's expression softened towards him, she wanted to reach out and brush away the uncertainty she saw. "Yes, I do," she told him sincerely. 

Mr. Gold searched her face, trying to find any hint of misgiving. But he found none, so he grabbed his cane and stood, to pace around the back of her, "this isn't about typos, staples, and erasers, is it dearie?"

Despite the bite to his tone, Belle stood straight and didn't look back at him. "No, Mr. Gold," she breathed out quietly.

The older man took a step closer towards her back, "what?" he asked, irritated at her small voice.

More confidently and loudly this time, she repeated, "no, Mr. Gold." She could feel him staring at the back of her head.

"Belle, I like you but I don't think I'm going to offer you the job."

It was like a slap across the face, and Belle's mouth opened for a second before the question came out, "why?"

"It's your behavior."

"What about my behavior?"

There was a pause of a heart-beat. 

"It's..." Mr. Gold said gravely, "...very bad. I'm sorry, you can collect your things."

Something in Belle snapped, she wasn't going to just accept this like the meek little girl she was, "time out," she said, spinning around to face him finally.

"Time out?" he repeated with a little disbelief. "You're fired," he told her as if he hadn't made himself clear.

"No, you're fired!" She shouted back at him, fighting back the tears building in her eyes.

Mr. Gold raised his voice to match hers, making it clear he wasn't going to back down. "you're fired, dearie. I don't want you. Now get out!"

The slap that landed on his face reverberated throughout the room, his jaw turned to the side by the blow. He ground his teeth, before turning back to her and growling out, "Why did you get glue on the Hubbard case papers?"

"I was fixing your shredder, you saw me," she shot back.

"Why are there still books in your desk draw? I told you to take them home, I don't want the possibility of you reading, filling your head with silly ideas, when you should be working for me. I saw them...I know they're still there!" he said with as much disdain as he could muster, which was a considerable amount.

"I'll move them," she said with defiance, keeping her chin up high and refusing to let the tears fall.

Mr. Gold was about to fire off with his next criticism, but it died before it left his throat. He searched her watery blue eyes for the truth behind her words. Maybe he found them, because the energy seemed to leave him and he turned from her, limping slowly away from her to the reclining chair by the art nouveau standing lamp he used for reading. It faced away from her, so with his back to her he slid down onto it, letting his cane clatter down beside him.

"You have to go," he said quietly as he stared ahead, "I won't be able to stop myself."

"Don't." She pleaded from behind him. 

That made him close his eyes in an attempt to block her out further, and she closed the distance between them so she was standing right at his shoulder.

"I cannot do this anymore," he whispered.

"I want to know you..." Belle said gently, reaching out with her hand to run her fingers through his hair, brushing the brown and white strands away from his face. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally rolled silently over her cheeks.

For a moment, Mr. Gold melted into her touch like a cat, his eyes still closed as his head followed the movement of her hand. But he stopped himself, flinching and curling his body away from her.

Belle let her hand fall sadly away, and felt both pity and anger at the man who was closing himself off when he could have her, he could have everything he wanted and more. Belle could have what she wanted too.

Still angled defensively away from her, Mr. Gold reached into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled free a brown envelope. He regarded it in his hands for a moment. "I'm so sorry for what happened between us. I realized what a terrible mistake I made with you. I can only hope you understand. Be assured you can count on me for an excellent reference." He held the envelope up to her, without ever looking back.

Belle's breath hitched as she struggled to keep her composure, and she didn't take the letter from him.

"Get out," he said. When she only sniffled uselessly against her tears he finally looked up at her, there was a darkness to his eyes and this time with venom he shouted at her, "Get out dearie!"

Belle took a shuddering breath, and grasped the letter from him. Slowly she made her way to the office door, and with one last look over her shoulder to him she said as her parting words, "you could have had everything, but all you'll have now is an empty heart and a chipped cup." She left him to brood in his dark office, as she packed her things into a cardboard box, crying as she did so. It was only when she carried her things outside clutching the box to her chest and stood in front of the sign that said 'Mr. R. Gold Attorney at Law' that she let herself sob loudly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle will never stop fighting for him.

_For the rest of the week I got dressed and went to work as if I hadn't been fired. Mr. Gold had changed the locks, and he hired a new girl. I would watch her arrive at the office from across the road, feeling the smart of pain that I had been replaced so easily._

_After a week I stopped going, and instead stayed in bed in the mornings looking at my work outfit hanging from the back of my door. Mr. Gold had given me a check for $640, more than he owed me but I didn't cash it._

_My father noticed after three days that I no longer went to work._

"Are you not going to work again?" He asked from the door way.

The covers tucked around her Belle stared up at the ceiling. "No, I'm not working for Mr. Gold anymore," she told him.

Her father didn't venture further in, "I never liked you working there anyway." Abruptly he closed the door, leaving Belle in the darkness of her room.

_After two weeks I decided it was time to move on. I rose out of bed to help my father in his shop. He seemed happy to have me by his side again, but I could feel no enthusiasm for the work._

_Mr. Gold did not want me anymore, so I thought I should try to find someone new to replace the aching gap he had left in my life. There followed a string of meetings with people who advertised similar interests to me._

_The first man grabbed my breasts before we even made it to the car._

_Another asked me to pee on his patio, and when I refused he said "I thought you were a submissive?"_

_My last attempt, was with a small man who asked to be tied to an industrial cooker with the burners on full blast, while I threw tomatoes at him._

_No-one else could do for me what Mr. Gold did, and when I had resigned to this fact I stopped looking through the personal pages._

_Shortly after this, Gaston, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart, asked me to marry him while we sat in his work pick-up truck. Unsure of what else to do, I said, "yes."_

Belle stood in front of a full length mirror, as Gaston's mother pulled faces as she struggled to get the buttons of the off-white wedding dress closed. "I must have been slimmer than you when I was your age."

Gaston's mother was now quite portly, and was quite willing to embrace Belle into the bosom of her family, saying that once they were wed they could live in the guest room of their large house, and when the first baby came along she would be there to help Belle along.

Belle remained silent as Gaston's mother tutted and sighed over the last button, and stood up, her knees creaking as she did so. "Well, just as long as you don't breath through the service you should make it."

The middle aged woman looked over Belle's shoulder and gave her a smile, "you look a treat, I can't wait to see Gaston's face when you come down the aisle." She arranged the veil over Belle's messy hair, and left the bride-to-be to find the shoes she had picked to go with the dress.

Belle looked at herself in the mirror, the wedding was in two weeks and yet she didn't feel happy at all. She couldn't find fault with Gaston, but he wasn't who she wanted. 

She whispered to herself, "Mrs. Gaston Allard," trying on the name for a fit. She looked like a fairytale princess, huge fluffy skirts and delicate beading work on the bodice that left her shoulders uncovered.

This vision in white, it wasn't her at all, she was Gaston's bride on the surface only. He didn't know her at all, not the real Belle. Over the past few months of working for Mr. Gold, Belle felt like she had discovered herself, realized her true hopes and desires.  
She wasn't sure which would be more selfish, marrying Gaston because she didn't have the courage to say no, or not going through with the wedding looming ahead.

She took a deep breath, and said this time, "Mrs. Belle Gold."

Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.

Picking up her skirts, Belle pounded down the stairs to where Gaston and her father were waiting. Gaston, as soon as he saw Belle burst in wearing the wedding dress threw his hands up in horror. "I can't see you before the wedding!" He said trying to shield his eyes.

Belle pulled off the engagement ring, and dropped it on the coffee table in front of him. "I'm sorry," she told him, "I can't marry you." Without further explanation, Belle darted for the door, feeling free once the sun touched her face.

Shoeless and skirts flapping around her, Belle sprinted towards the park to cut across it to the other side of town where the office of Mr. R. Gold was. People stopped to stare at her as she pounded by, the hair that had fallen out of her bun now plastered to her face with sweat.

By the time she reached the office, her feet were hurting but she didn't care as she pushed her way through the front door into the waiting room.

The new secretary was sitting at her old desk, all blond and pretty, but Belle ignored her as she ran towards Mr. Gold's office. "You can't go in there!" came from behind her, but Belle needed to see Mr. Gold.

He was exactly where she thought he'd be, in his office and at his spinning wheel. He looked shocked at the intrusion, a sweaty and out of breath Belle standing there in a wedding dress. "I have something to say to you." She tried to take a breath, "I love you," she blurted out.

There was a moment where Mr. Gold was stunned into silence, but quickly remembered the terms of their parting. "Belle," he said while pushing himself up off the low stool with his cane, "you can't be here," his brow creased in irritation.

The silly man didn't believe her! Belle grinned at him, "I love you," she told him again.

Mr. Gold circled around her to the desk, lips pursed together tightly. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe that to be true." His abrasiveness didn't stop Belle hearing the sadness that tinged his words.

She got up close to him, trying to capture his eyes, "well it is true." 

He wouldn't look at her though, and he spun around to take her by the shoulder and march her towards the door. "This matter was resolved when I received your cancelled severance check."

Belle brushed his hand off to stop him. "I love you," she said again trying to get through to him. Her eyes pleaded with him to trust her to know her own mind, to know what she wanted was him.

Mr. Gold cautiously made eye contact from under his long hair, this tone had lost it's hardness. "We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week," a hint of warning in his voice. She really did not know what she was asking for, no one could want this perverse monster.

"Why not?" Belle asked with the barest of shrugs of her shoulders. If this was how they were, why couldn't they just be themselves? Free and open with each other.

Mr. Gold lifted his head, and looked into her blue eyes as if searching for some uncertainty within her.

Belle knew he'd find none, and she strode around his desk and sat in his chair, the poufy white skirts bunching up around the padded leather arms. She looked at him, eyes filled with challenge.

Mr. Gold stared at her, mouth hardening into a hard line. He accepted the challenge to love him. "Put your palms face down on the desk in front of you," he said.

Never breaking eye contact, Belle done as he ordered with a smirk that bordered on mischievous. "I want to make love to you," she said lowly.

That nearly knocked Mr. Gold off balance, but he quickly regained his composure and swallowed. "Keep both your feet on the floor until I come back," he said, and briskly left her in his office.

Belle settled down, to what she knew was going to be a long wait. She wasn't afraid of him, of his darkness, and she would never stop fighting for him.

***

Mr. Gold dismissed the confused looking new secretary, and paced around the waiting room impatiently for a few minutes, before making himself sit on the windowsill opposite the door that lead to his office. He half hoped she would give up already, prove all his doubts true. But as the hours passed, he realized that this would not end so simply for him.

It was already evening by now, and Mr. Gold hadn't moved from his perch, and neither had Belle he knew. The old lawyer finally stood, stretching out his stiff muscles, he needed a phone number. Mr. Gold knew everything had it's price, and after a few inquiries he had the number scribbled down on a bit of paper, and he stuffed it into his pocket.

Mr. Gold left his office building through the front door, and sneaked around the side of the building in the shadows like a common burglar until he reached the windows that backed onto his office. Careful to conceal himself in the bushes of Ivy, he could see the back of Belle, ridiculous wedding dress spilling around her, palms still on the desk. She hadn't moved an inch.

Mr. Gold watched her for a while, taking in the determined hunch of her shoulders, the way tendrils of hair spilled down her back where they had escaped her hair style. The times he had wanted to reach out and twist those strands between his fingers...

He snapped himself out of his reverie, and found the paper and his cell phone. Inputting the number, he held it to his ear as it rang. Within two rings it was picked up, and a frantic voice on the other said, "Hello? Belle?"

With his most professional distain Mr. Gold said, "you appear to be missing a fiancé. She's at my office." He hung up without even waiting for a reply.

Mr. Gold's eyes went from Belle, to the phone on his desk, and he dialed his own office number from his cell phone.

The old style phone rang, and he watched as Belle leaned over to try to grasp the receiver between her teeth, without moving her hands or feet. It took a few tries for her to get a grip on it, and Mr. Gold ended the call from his cell phone, which stopped the phone ringing. Belle let go of the phone, and seemingly unconcerned straightened back up.

Even though she didn't know he was watching, she hadn't even been tempted to cheat. Mr. Gold clasped his cell phone to his chest, unprepared for the hope that was flickering in there. 

The headlights of a pickup truck illuminated the parking lot, before switching off and the young strapping man Mr. Gold had seen in Granny's diner bounding out to run inside his office.

Belle heard the front door slam, and a commotion and she looked up expectantly only to see Gaston burst through looking for her. "Oh," she said disappointed, "it's you."

Gaston looked flabbergasted at the scene, and came to the edge of the desk, "what are you doing?"

Eyes set straight ahead of her, Belle said, "I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to leave," she said coolly.

Gaston looked confused, "Is this..." he gestured at the way Belle was sitting, "...something sexual?"

Belle gave him a withering look, "does this look sexual to you?"

The tall man threw up his hands in exasperation, "I don't know! I saw those books you have but this I don't know what it means!" Gaston ran his hands through his hair, "just come home, and we can talk, it's just pre-wedding jitters."

"Gaston," Belle said firmly, "The wedding is off."

"Belle, I think you're having another break down...lets just get you home." He rushed towards her, lifting her up out the chair and restraining her in a bear hug easilly with his strong arms across his broad chest.

"NO!" Belle shrieked, struggling and trying to get free of his grip. He had dragged her half way across the room, before she managed to land a kick between his legs that made him instantly let go and double over onto his knees.

Belle pushed him away from her, and went back to the desk, setting the chair back in place before sitting down, hands in front of her, palms down, feet on the floor.

Gaston slowly got to his feet, "Belle..." he whimpered.

The young woman glared at him, "Gaston. I don't want you," she said clearly, "get out."

Gaston looked like he was going to protest some more, but Belle cut him off before he could speak. "Get out!" she shouted.

Defeated, Gaston backed down and gingerly limped out.

Mr. Gold had watched this all transpire, and had been seconds from somehow throwing himself through the window to get the brut off her. But she had, quite effectively managed to fend for himself and he had to fight back a smile of pride.

The lawyer heard a noise, and his eyes narrowed when saw the ex-fiance slowly make his way to his pickup truck. The other man stopped and was leaning on the bonnet, trying to collect himself. As silently as a snake, Mr. Gold avoided the spotlights of the small parking lot and crept up behind the much larger man.

Gaston hadn't even heard him approach, when the full force of a gold topped can came sailing around into the back of his head. The man dropped instantly to the dusty gravel, and Mr. Gold rolled his sizeable frame over onto his back with a shove from his Italian leather shoe.

The lawyer looked down at the younger man. "If you ever touch Belle again," he gestured with his cane to make his point, "I'm going to kill you." He smiled dangerously down at Gaston, "is that clear?" 

Gaston was holding his head, and blinking up at the town lawyer, too dazed to think of answering.

"Answer me lad," Gold said raising the cane up again.

The threat of another blow brought Gaston back to his senses enough to shout, "yes!"

Mr. Gold lowered the cane and put his weight on it. "Good, now leave here now," and without another glance he left the man on the floor. As far as he was concerned, Gaston had gotten off lightly. 

***

The night passed, and Belle didn't move one inch. She was tired, but now the morning sunlight was passing through the window the danger of sleep had abated for now. She heard the door open and heard a voice call, "Belle?" it was her father.

Her father eventually found her in Mr. Gold's office. He looked tired and weary, like he hadn't slept a wink himself. "My girl, what has he done to you? That Gold..." he punctuated the lawyers name with a fist pounding on the wall. "I called Gaston this morning when he didn't come home, is it true?"

Belle took a breath to steady himself, "Papa, sit down..."

"Sit down?! Belle, that man has kidnapped you!"

She had to force back a laugh, "do I look like I'm tied up to you?" Not this time anyway. "Wasn't the front door open? I can leave any time I want." But she didn't want to, which seemed to be the point no-one could grasp.

Flopping down into the chair opposite Belle, her father pulled off his cap and rubbed his face. "You want to be with this, Gold, your boss?"

Belle sighed, "yes."

Moe shook his head, "It's not right, he's more than double your age!"

"I love him, and he loves me," Belle tried to explain.

"You can't mean that!" Her father said in disbelief, "he's done something to you, twisted you..."

Belle took a deep breath, her eyelids drooping over the mental energy this was taking. "He's done nothing of the sort. I just, realized who I am at last..."

"Enough," Moe stood and put his hand on his hips, like she was a little girl being told it was time to go home, "lets go."

Her eyes rolled slowly up to his imposing figure, "no," she said.

"I don't know you anymore." His eyes pleaded with her to come home with him.

Belle's blue stare was her answer, and Moe shook his head in disappointment and he turned to leave. She watched him go, and before he was out the door she said, "I'm proud of you Papa, for not drinking." She needed to tell him that before he went, in case he never spoke to her. She hoped this would not be an excuse for him to start again.

He gave her a quick glance, before slamming the door shut behind him.

***

News of her 'hunger strike' spread through the small town. It had evidently caused quite a buzz because a steady stream of visitors drifted through one by one to see her. Battling exhaustion, Belle was finding it hard to engage with them with her mind so foggy and tired. As the day faded into night time again, she started wondering whether the people talking to her were really there or not.

Mary-Margarat left a stack of feminist literature on the desk, asking her to read about "women's struggles."

Sydney Glass who introduced himself as a reporter from The Mirror, tried to interview her as to her motivations. Global warming? Animal Rights? Democracy and human rights in the middle-east crisis?

Ruby tried to keep her company, seemingly unfazed at having a one sided conversation. 

Milah visited, and praised her for her audacity in getting Robert to finally open up, he was the most isolated person she ever knew. "The dead snail, brilliant."

With the crowd hanging around his office, Mr. Gold had returned home. He made a microwave dinner, but when it sat there in front of him all he could think of was Belle, and he was instantly not hungry anymore. He slid it off the kitchen counter table into the bin. He took his whisky glass, and sipped it as he went to his living room, where he found a spot to lay down on the hard cold floor for the night. It didn't seem right to allow himself comfort as he put Belle through her own trial. He didn't sleep either.

***

By Day 3 some of the local Maine TV stations had gotten wind of the story, and there were now a few news vans parked outside the office of Mr. R. Gold Attorney at Law. Reporters speculated on the motivations for the 'Belle French Hunger Strike.' Various campaigners had also set out camp holding various banners championing their cause with a variety of witty, and not so witty slogans. Some people were just there to 

Mr. Gold stayed sequestered in his house, listless and finding that even spinning was unable to drive the thoughts of Belle from his mind.

He remembered to pick up the evening edition of The Mirror from the porch, and he was surprised to see Belle was the front page news. He carefully poured over the article, and paused on a direct quote from Belle:

_"In one way or another I've always suffered. I don't know why, exactly. But I do know I'm not so scared of suffering now. I feel more than I've ever felt, and I've found someone to feel with, to play with, to love, in a way that feels right for me. I do hope he knows that I can see that he suffers too, and that I want to love him."_

The article finished off with some speculation as to whether Belle French was willing to starve herself to death for her cause, and Mr. Gold let the newspaper drop to the floor.

No, he would not let that happen.

***

Mr. Gold pulled up outside his office, eying the crowd wearily. It had grown in the day since he'd last been here, and when he stepped out of his car there was a sudden hush come over the spectators. He clutched the plastic beverage cup in his free hand, and tried to remember the confidence he had cultivated over the years and he strode through the path that cleared for him.

Grateful to get away from the dozens of eyes on him, he went into his building to where he knew Belle would still be.

There she was, still at his desk, hands in front of her palms flat to the desk. She was passed out on the desk now though, and he felt a rush of guilt that he had pushed her this far and hard. He limped to her side, and leaned over to gently and carefully lift up her head for her. "Belle," he said softly.

His voice roused her, and when she cracked open her eyes to see him looking down at her, she gave him a warm smile.

"Drink this sweetheart..." He told her, pressing the plastic straw to her lips so she could drink the sweet iced tea, she sucked greedily on the drink. She perked up a bit with some fluids in her enough to have him help her sit up. He cautious stroked the side of her face, before removing his wool coat to slide over her shoulders. Leaning close into her, nose just barely brushing her ear, he squeezed the padding over her shoulders. "Lets go home," he told her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle goes home

Belle ignored the pushing reporters, and the bright lights being shined in her face by the TV crews. She only felt the heavy wool coat Mr. Gold had laid over her shoulders, and his arm around her waist pulling her into his side shielding her from all the mayhem. He remained silent by her side, declining to comment to any journalist and instead answering them with a warning glare if they got too close to Belle.

They reached the black Cadillac and held the car door open for her, and she gave him a tired smile before ducking her head down to climb in, the voluminous skirt bustling up around her in the passenger seat. The door closed on her, and reporters crowded the window, asking her if she achieved the adjectives to her hunger strike, desperate for some sound-byte they could use.

But Mr. Gold joined her in the driver's seat, and he gripped the wheel tensely for a second, "do you want to go...home?" He asked with some trepidation. He was waiting for an answer, as if he was expecting her to change her mind still. 

"Your home, I want to be with you," she mumbled as she curled up in the leather seat, closing her eyes to get some sleep for the first time in two days listening to engine of the old car rumble into life.

When she opened her eyes, Mr. Gold was crouching beside the open door, fingers tracing her cheek gently to wake her. "Belle, dearest..." he said softly.

Belle stretched a bit, feeling her shoulders give a satisfying click and the sore muscles loosen. When she looked at him, he still looked anxious and she could see his pink house looming behind him in the darkness. "We're home," she smiled at him, trying to alive him of any lingering worry.

Mr. Gold allowed himself a slight smile, "yes, we're home. You're home, for as long as you wish my darling. Lets get you in." He took a step back, and held out his hand for her to grasp and pull herself out, and she immediately wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, letting him guide her towards the house.

He let them both in and when the door was finally closed and locked behind them, she finally let go and looked around. It was a beautiful house, immaculate and richly furnished in the style she had come to expect from him. The stained glass windows would let the light in beautifully in the day time she thought.

When she looked at the man who had just become her lover, he was looking more relaxed now and relieved himself. "Lets get you out of that," and he gripped her hand once again and lead her up the wooden stairs to the master bedroom, where he left her to run a bath in the white marble en-suite. Belle waited, listening to the water run, as she looked around his bedroom, trying to learn everything she could about him.

When he returned to the master bedroom he hovered at the door, and she beckoned him closer, and he gratefully came towards her to take her hand. His eyes raked up and down her in the dirty white dress before locking with her eyes, "may I?" he asked.

Belle had to restrain a laugh, "of course," she said and turned her back to expose the delicate pearl buttons holding the dress together.

Slowly, his confidence growing, Mr. Gold undid each button, skipping over the ones that had ripped in the days she spent hunched over his desk, and he opened the back letting it fall to the floor carelessly.

Belle felt herself able to take a deep breath for the first time in days, and he felt his hands ghost over the shape of her hips from behind her. He moved around the front of her and took both her hands in his own. She stood there in only her white underwear before him, but felt utterly unashamed being so exposed, bare flesh and scars and all. 

He smiled back at her, and delicately kissed the small hands in his own. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Now, that bath,"

Mr. Gold rolled his sleeves up, and bathed her himself, rubbing the lather of expensive soaps into her skin, and then rinsing off all the suds carefully with a cupped handfuls of warm water.

Belle found herself relaxing and dozing under his gentle ministrations, letting her eyes close as she enjoyed the slick feeling of his hand gliding over her breasts.

It wasn't even sexual, the way he touched her. But it was definitely loving, and whenever her eyes slipped open there would be a look of adoration in his dark eyes.

She was starting to get wrinkled, when he helped her out the bath and wrapped her in a large towel, that felt warm and fluffy on her damp skin. When she was fully dry he let it drop to the floor, and lead her to his bed.

Exhausted, she dropped down naked on top of the covers, the half damp ringlets of curls spread around her head on the pillow. When she looked at him, Mr. Gold had perched onto the side of the bed, studying her body with it's map of scars. She had once felt so self conscious of her scars, covering them under ugly long skirts and long sleeved cardigans, but she felt none of that now in front of him.

Belle reached for his tie and pulled him down closer to her slowly, and he bent his head down to kiss the hallow of her clavicle, before moving his lips down slowly, to kiss the raised set of white lines on the inside of her bicep. "Those were from the ninth grade, when my mother died..." and she started the stories of her scars, telling him when and where she got all of them. He made soft murmuring sounds to tell her as he was listening as he continued to kiss, lips brushing delicately over her skin.

He worked his way over her body, down her thighs and calf until he ended at her feet, where he made sure to kiss the knuckle of every toe, as if they were some precious religious artifact.

Slowly he came up her body, his warm breath grazing over her skin, and now she felt like it was her turn to hear about him, "so where are you from?"

"Glasgow..." He said as he muzzled her soft belly.

"Where did you go to school?" She asked, trying to keep back the sleepiness that crept through her mind.

"Edinburgh." His nose was brushing somewhere underneath her breast.

Smiling to herself, she found his tie again with her hand and brought him up so she could see into his eyes. "When was your first kiss?" she asked.

His mouth quirked to the side playful, "I think it's just about to happen," he teased and they both laughed, before his lips met hers, and they kissed properly and lovingly, for what felt the first time in their lives. There was no need to rush, they had their entire lives to get to know and explore each other.

***

_We had a private ceremony, only two witnesses picked off from the streets, my father declined to attend, but that was fine because it only needed the two of us._

_We honeymooned in the mountains for the weekend because Robert had to get back to work. We made love in forest, my hands tied around a tree as he pushed me up against the rough bark._

_Now we look like any other happily married couple living in suburbia. Before he goes to work, he tells me the jobs he wants done for the day, and I give him the lunch I have prepared for him. I do my chores to his exacting instructions around my university school work, and spend the afternoon preparing the menu he planned._

_When Robert gets home from a day at the office, he always checks what I have done, that his shoes have been polished and the laundry folded and placed back into their proper places, or whatever else is my task for the day._

_He rewards me if I have followed his instructions perfectly, he pampers and praises me with the sweetest words and touches._

_But wouldn't that be boring to be a good girl all the time?_

_The day he found a snail in the pristine white Egyptian cotton of the bed, and I saw the horror and admiration on his face before he asked me if I had put it there, voice low and dangerous. I said of course, knowing what was going to happen, and right then and there he bent me over his knee and spanked me until my ass was red with his hand prints._

_He loves it when I surprise him, and I love to surprise him._

_You see I told him that we could live this life, play these games 24/7, and I was right. This is us, this is who you are, we are in love, and I dare you to say we are wrong for that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to finish up! My pathological fear of finishing something kicked in and well...but here it is, a finished fic! Thanks for anyone who has enough patience to come back to read the epilogue.


End file.
